Shark Shadows

The morning after my last post, I woke up remembering the decisions waiting for me back in California. Then a pain spike followed (as if on cue) and the two things were enough to knock me out. I fell straight into the dead zone.

Three hours into the melancholy morning my mom texted me. “Hey, girl, how you doing? Had a dream last night that prompted me to be praying for you. Are you in pain today?”

I bundled up for a long walk and called her.

My mom’s relentless prayers & constant admonition to drink more water are probably the main reason I’m still a relatively functioning human being today. It’s no surprise she’d be somehow clued into my discouragement even 2,700 miles away.

As soon as she answered the phone, she recounted her dream.

“There were these monstrous sharks coming out of the ocean and transcending natural boundaries. They were swallowing people whole as they somehow made their way across land, over cliffs, etc. You and I were dodging them, finding shelter, barring all the doors and praying.”

She footnoted the story with a disclaimer. She told me sometimes dreams are just weird and hers wasn’t necessarily spiritual. But she felt in her spirit that it was – she had been praying for me and thinking about me a lot lately.

Call it a mother’s intuition, call it coincidence, but my mom isn’t into Sci-Fi like I am. The only reason she’d be dreaming up the cliché cousin of Sharknado is because the message was simply meant for me.

Essentially, I believe God nudged my mom by means of dream sharks to show her I needed a hug. Write me off for overthinking things if you want, but I’ve just seen too much to ignore that.

I walked along the frozen river and cried while my mom listened and encouraged me for 20 minutes.

The endo is back. And it’s camping out in my left ovary. My only ovary. My current doctor says not to worry. The cyst is small and removing it could do more harm than good. But after all this, I’ve learned endometriosis and apathy rarely go hand in hand.

On the fertility front, I’m currently planted between two not-great options: birth control (counterintuitively) to smooth my frazzled hormones for a “fresh” start or a couple more rounds of grueling, hair destroying fertility treatments.

Decisions.

It feels like I’m on a paddle-less boat surrounded by shark shadows. There’s blood in the water and I’ve been told to jump. My options are swan dive or cannonball. And both land me in the water.

Honestly, I’m angry and I’m done with it. Lately I’m just yelling and crying and throwing punches at Jesus. And He stays quiet while he holds me.